A Day in the Life
by angel718
Summary: The Opera Ghost and I, angel718, have a nice little chat.  Just read, it will all become clear.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just for fun. The idea of having characters come to me comes from LostOzian. Read it, it's interesting!

She didn't even notice him when he first entered the room. Few people ever did; after all, he had spent years perfecting his silent-entrance technique. She was half kneeling, half lying on the floor, scribbling madly in a composition book with a black felt pen. His presence remained unnoticed until his shadow fell across her words. He managed to catch a few of them before she whirled around: wand, trunk, and See. Harry Potter. He winced in distaste.

"Erik! What are you doing here?" Her eyes were wide and her hair was mussed as though she had run her fingers through it in concentration about five hundred times. "Oh, no, did we set up an appointment? I completely forgot about the one with Boq on Wednesday…Did I tell you what it was about? I can't recall."

He raised his eyebrows, half amused, half annoyed. He must have interrupted as she was about to hit her stride in her writing. "Are you through?"

"No, actually, I've only just begun." She was evidently under the impression that he was referring to her story, which was headed, in the top right corner of each page, by numbers. Apparently she was at page six. "Would you like to read it?"

"I am not here to read about underage _children_ attempting paltry tricks with sticks of wood!"

The authoress glanced briefly down at her notebook, and when she looked back up her eyes were practically spitting fire. "The Harry Potter bashing is completely unnecessary. I _know_ how you feel about them, and they don't like you either." Her tone was suddenly cold.

"I have a favor to ask." He blurted out the words. He was clearly not in the habit of saying them, but it was probably the only way to make her listen.

"Oh?" Her interest was piqued. "What in the world does Erik the Opera Ghost want with a little fanfiction writer like myself?"

"I want you to write a piece for me. I would have waited until you'd finished some of your other things; I did read 'A Dose of Reality,' you know. But if you're able to begin a new bit about so-called _witches and wizards_, I think you can handle my request."

"I'll be charitable and ignore that last bit. I can't promise you anything, Erik. You can't just force me to be inspired, you know. But if you tell me what you want I can do my best."

"What I want is a post-musical piece. Match me with my angel of music. The more fop-bashing it is, the better. Can you manage it?"

"Erik…" The authoress looked surprised and harried. "Why are you asking _me_ to do this? There are plenty of other fanfiction writers out there who don't have so many incomplete pieces and will be able to update it all the faster."

"I know. Do you realize that mine is the only musical that you have loved—and I _know_ you loved it, even if you don't now—"

"Erik, I _do_ love it, of course I—"

"I'm not finished!"

She fell silent, pouting. She wasn't used to the characters treating her like this. Usually they understood, and were quite willing to bend to her will…they liked what she did with them most of the time, after all.

"—The only musical you have loved and not posted a story for."

"I tried…remember 'Potato?' The interest just faded…hardly anyone was reading anymore. Besides, I had writers' block, so I removed it."

"Yes. But have you removed 'Seasons of Love,' even though your precious Rentheads," Erik pronounced the word as though it were something vile stuck in his throat, "haven't reviewed?"

"No, Erik, but…I don't know, I got further on that fic. 'Potato' was only at chapter 3!"

"Still. You write…decently. And I trust you to do as I ask and not work random characters of your own invention in or try to make it seem as though Meg Giry of all people is my angel of music!"

"Wow, thank you. I am unworthy to accept the fabulous praise to my writing talents that you have just bestowed upon me."

"Sarcasm is not a very pleasant trait, least so on a young lady such as yourself."

"You _interrupted _me, Erik. You know how I get when people burst in unannounced and expect me to do something for them! I was _busy!_"

"Well, I haven't got all day either, I _am_ in other things you know!"

She sighed, exasperated. "Erik. The fic you suggest is…overdone. I don't trust myself to be able to keep it in character and not cliché."

"Oh, because 'Seasons of Love' isn't cliché at all."

"Maybe it is, Erik, but hundreds of people haven't replicated the exact idea!"

"Fine." His dark eyes remained wooden as he regarded her coolly.

"I can try. But like I said, I can't make any promises."

He nodded once. "Good day to you."

Once he had gone, she dropped her head into her arms and groaned. What had she gotten herself into?


End file.
